


Muse

by TheDarkSideofEnergon



Series: AUgust Insanity [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Implied Smut, M/M, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 08:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSideofEnergon/pseuds/TheDarkSideofEnergon
Summary: Jazz was only one mech away now. Prowl barely remembered to smile at the last one, and then Jazz was there. Jazz looked up as he stepped forward, and he froze as he met Prowl’s apologetic optics. His visor was retracted to show off sky-blue optics, and his mouth was open in shock.Continuation of my Author AU from my AUgust stories.





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

> *stretch* Alright, let’s get this show on the road. For those of you who followed my AUgust story, you’ll maybe remember Author from day 14. For those of you who haven’t read that, go do that, as this finishes that story, though it skips back a teeny bit to when Jazz and Prowl separate in the airport. 
> 
> And now, the conclusion.

There was no further reason for the two mechs to delay getting out of the airport and going their separate ways. That did not mean, however, that they weren’t going to try to prolong their time together.

If trying meant standing, facing each other, and shuffling their pedes awkwardly as they both tried to find a graceful way out of their sudden friendship while they waited for their bags to come down the ramp.

Prowl was struggling with the desire to ask Jazz for his comm code, or maybe to offer his own, but knowing that the mech would be showing up at his book-signing the next orn was holding him back, for some reason. Rationally, Jazz wasn’t just looking for some famous mech to be friends with (not that Prowl was all _ that _ famous), since he had no idea who Prowl was. But Prowl didn’t want to make it awkward if Jazz turned him down and then showed up at the book-signing, still unaware. These threads turning over and over in his processor, he opened his mouth to speak, having come to a decision.

“I would like to give you my--” Prowl was cut off by Jazz suddenly whooping, grabbing his bag, and turning away, practically running out the door. 

“Slag, sorry, m’mech! Hotel shuttle’s about t’ leave! It was nice meetin’ ya!” Jazz waved with a grin and a shout as he launched himself out the door and into the shuttle.

“...Comm.” Prowl finished belatedly, and he sighed, doorwings drooping. Now he would simply have to hope that Jazz didn’t hate him for keeping his identity a secret, though what little he had learned of the mech suggested that he would either find it amusing or initially be annoyed, before understanding Prowl’s desire for privacy. 

Though, perhaps Jazz did not want to be friends. With that thought, Prowl checked his own travel alerts, seeing that it would still be a few breems before his own shuttle arrived. He took a seat just inside the door to wait, thinking about the cheerful security mech he had just spent six joors next to, and hoping that he still wanted to speak to him after all this.

* * *

Settled in his hotel room later that evening, Prowl relaxed in a chair and pulled out his datapad to work again. He vented heavily as he skimmed back through the book. Two deca-orns until he had to have the full first draft turned in to his editor. Laying the datapad back down on his lap, he looked out the window, helm in hand, doorwings relaxed on the cushions he’d put under them. He tried to think of his plot, but all that would come to mind was Jazz.

Then he perked up.

A stranger. Someone that Goldburner shouldn’t trust, especially after Hailbird’s betrayal. An undercover Enforcer that Goldburner meets at the crime scene. Someone who had nothing to do with the murder, but got pulled in because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone who Goldburner could develop a deep respect (and Prowl hesitated before making a tiny note of  _ love? _ ) over the course of the three deca-orns they work together. 

Prowl started writing out the full idea, doorwings twitching in excitement as he pulled together Deepsteel, undercover Enforcer. He smiled as he started a new document on his datapad, copying and pasting text as he came to bits that didn’t need to be changed in the slightest, but making Deepsteel be there, always lurking, seeming initially the murderer, but later a key witness and Goldburner’s new partner, now that Hailbird was in prison and Swiftwatch had gone his own way to deal with his best friend’s betrayal. It was going to be a busy two deca-orns with the rewrite, but Prowl’s spark was insisting that this was what the book needed. 

He hoped he was right.

* * *

Prowl had fallen asleep in his chair, but thankfully, his alarm was always on and set for the same time. Groggily, he onlined his optics and rubbed them as he gently moved his stiff doorwings. His book-signing started at the eleventh joor, and it was currently almost the sixth. His datapad still blinked, telling him his last edits had been just after the third. Prowl groaned as he considered how much time he really needed. Ten breems to make it to the bookstore, maybe thirty-five to wash and polish. Another fifteen to refuel. Less than a joor overall. He reset his alarm for just before the tenth joor, collapsing into the soft pillows and thermal blankets of his bed, snoring softly almost before he offlined his optics again.

The extra four joors of recharge made a world of difference to Prowl’s exhaustion and overall processing speed. Unlike this morning, when the very thought of seeing Jazz again would have almost made him cancel the whole event, he could meet it with equilibrium. If Jazz hated him, well, they were practically strangers. If he didn’t… well, maybe Prowl could make it up to him somehow.

Downing his energon and rushing through his polish, Prowl made his way to the bookstore, still arriving a solid fifteen breems before the start time. They’d let him do book signings here for his previous crime trilogy, so he was grateful they had allowed him to come again. Mechs had already started to mill around the store and form the line for his signings. As Prowl approached, he noticed that the line was already reaching out the door and around the front of the store. 

As he slipped down the alleyway to the back door, like they had asked him to do, he noticed that it was already open. He peeked inside as he rapped lightly on the door to let them know he was there, seeing that both the owners were standing in the storeroom, chatting quietly. He smiled at them as they turned to look and he stepped inside. “Orion. Megatron. It’s good to see you again.”

“Prowl!” Orion stepped over and hugged Prowl, something he accepted with a cycling of his optics at Megatron, who just chuckled. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.”

Orion had also been an Enforcer. While he had been part of the Iacon force, he had come to Praxus as part of an investigation into a high-profile serial killer that appeared to either have moved from Iacon to Praxus, or have a copy-cat. It turned out to be the former, and Orion had been instrumental to Prowl’s catching the mech. Over the course of the investigation, they’d become good friends, and Orion had actually been part of Prowl’s inspiration for the detective in his first trilogy. While Prowl had stayed in the Enforcers until his books took off, Orion had quit after meeting Megatron on an investigation that had taken him to Kaon. Their whirlwind romance had culminated in Orion leaving the Enforcers, Megatron leaving the gladiatorial arena, and them buying this bookshop that the three of them stood in now. And now that Prowl looked…

“Orion, are you carrying?” Prowl eyed Orion’s spark chamber.

“...I am.” Orion lowered his voice. “We haven’t told anyone yet, so if you would keep it to yourself?” Megatron stepped up to Orion’s side and put an arm around his shoulders. 

Prowl would never admit it, but his years in the Enforcers had not prepared him for Megatron, and he stoically avoided Megatron’s optics. “Your secret is safe with me.” Prowl assured Orion, who smiled. Megatron also relaxed. Prowl understood. A former Enforcer and a gladiator had caused a stir in all the forces, not just the ones that had worked with Orion. For all they claimed to have an equal society, some mechs were just considered…  _ less _ . Prowl vented slightly at the thought and refocused on the current issue.

“Are you planning on capping the line at all?” He asked, craning his neck to see out the door. He could no longer see the end of the line.

Orion looked up at Megatron, who shrugged.

“If we get down to a joor before your scheduled leave time and there are still many mechs waiting, we’ll figure something out. You’re here until the fifteenth joor?”

Prowl nodded. “I can stretch to the sixteenth if it is necessary. I don’t want to have to turn anyone away. I am aware that many may have flown in specifically to come to this event.” Prowl broke optic contact with Orion.

Orion raised an optic ridge. “Something you’d like to share, Prowl?” He teased, lightly.

“Nothing major. I just met a mech on the plane here that told me he was flying in to Iacon due to my not going to Polyhex.” 

Orion chuckled. “Was he attractive?”

Prowl vented. “So, where’s my chair at this time?”

Megatron grinned. “I believe he is avoiding the question, Orion.”

Orion grinned right back. “I think you’re right.” He winked at Prowl, who just vented again, refusing to make optic contact. Orion relented. “It’s less than two breems until your scheduled start time, so you might as well go have a seat, if you don’t mind starting a little early?”

Accepting the temporary truce (and making a plan to leave as quickly as possible before Orion could get back on the topic later), Prowl nodded. “I am fine with that.” He took a deep vent in, bracing himself for the crowds. As much as he enjoyed meeting his fans, and signing their books, it was just a  _ lot _ .

Thankfully, his fans tended to be on the quieter side, unlike when he had gone to a signing for one of Stormglide’s books. (Stormglide was a fantasy writer, and quite popular with mecha in their second upgrades).

Settling himself in the doorwing-sensitive seat that Orion had made sure was available ever since Prowl’s first uncomfortable signing, Prowl put on his people-expression, a faint smile that he could keep for joors. His editor had helped him work on something that in his words, “Didn’t make him look like he was having a spark-attack or bad tank reflux, but also made him look  _ friendly _ for once.”

Prowl hated it. But it stayed. Enforcer training made sure of that.

He picked up his pen and smiled at the first person in line, who stepped up, barely-restrained excitement palpable as they handed their copy of  _ The Shadow in the Grave _ over. “And who am I signing this to?”

The first couple of joors passed rapidly. Prowl had been placed in a spot where he was hidden from the street, and despite Prowl’s worry that the line would grow too long, Megatron assured him that it was diminishing faster than it was growing at this point. Now, apparently, the line was barely touching the end of the store, rather than stretching down the block like it had previously. Jazz had still not shown up. Prowl started to wonder if he was coming. Then he saw him. He was looking down at a datapad,  _ The Shadow in the Grave  _ tucked under his arm. Prowl swallowed slightly. Evidently, Jazz hadn’t noticed him yet, or perhaps he had and wasn’t interested at all. 

Jazz was only one mech away now. Prowl barely remembered to smile at the last one, and then Jazz was there. Jazz looked up as he stepped forward, and he froze as he met Prowl’s apologetic optics. His visor was retracted to show off sky-blue optics, and his mouth was open in shock.

“No _ fraggin’ way _ .” Jazz’s voice was quiet.

“Sorry.” Prowl gave Jazz a wry smile as he reached out for Jazz’s datapad, which Jazz handed over, still shocked.

“Yer telling m’ that I was sittin’ next t’ ya for six joors, an’ ya didn’t say anythin’? Actually, wait, ya gave me a false name?” Jazz’s tone wasn’t bitter at all, something that relieved Prowl. In fact, it was a mix of incredulous and amused. Prowl bit his lip as he signed Jazz’s datapad.

“I have a break coming up in just a few breems, if you care to stick around. Tell Orion -- he’s the red and blue one just over there, by the counter -- that you’re the mech from the plane. He’ll let you in the back. We can talk then.”

Jazz’s humor was quickly returning, and he grinned. “Tellin’ mecha about m’ already? ‘M flattered.” He took his datapad back and nodded to Prowl, slipping off over to Orion. Orion glanced up at Jazz, and while Prowl couldn’t hear them, he kept an optic on them, even as he smiled and signed the next couple datapads. When Orion peered around at Prowl, optic ridge raised and a grin on his face, Prowl just nodded, before signing one more datapad and standing up.

“If you will excuse me, I have a scheduled five breem break that I need to take.” His doorwings shifted in apology.

The mechs in line simply waved and murmured in acknowledgement, the ones closer to the front of the line already having been warned by Megatron several breems earlier that they would likely have to wait until after said break. For all his intimidation and seeming brawn over processor, he was extremely good at predicting where the halfway point in the line would be.

Prowl made his way to the back of the store, only to be grabbed by Orion, who still had a grin on his face. 

“You certainly have good taste, old friend.”

Prowl just cycled his optics. “He’s a stranger.”

“One you’re  _ going _ to ask out on a date. If you don’t, I might.” Orion stuck out his glossa, just a little bit, and Megatron (who had come up just in time to catch their conversation), made an incredulous noise.

“I thought we were quite happy?” Megatron’s voice wasn’t hurt at all, just amused.

“Of course, but did you  _ see _ him?” Orion teased, and Prowl cycled his optics once before taking a step towards the back. He glanced back over his shoulder.

“Mine.” He said quietly and winked, making Orion grin even more.

Jazz was leaning on a wall, tracing Prowl’s signature when Prowl spotted him. Jazz looked up at the pedesteps and blushed at being caught doing such an odd thing. He subspaced the datapad and crossed his arms, trying to look more collected than he was. Prowl stopped just across from him.

“I am sure you have questions.” 

Jazz gestured vaguely. “‘S okay, m’mech. Ya knew I was a fan, didn’t want t’ possibly have m’ squealing over ya th’ rest of th’ flight, am I right?”

Prowl nodded, relieved. “You are correct. I noticed that you had my book almost as soon as I was seated, and…” Prowl hesitated. “I was interested in your honest reaction to it, unaware of who I was.” He admitted. “It was… entertaining, to say the least. You are very expressive while you read.”

Jazz just chuckled. “So ya were watchin’ m’ before I even spoke t’ ya, weren’t ya?”

Prowl’s doorwings drooped slightly. “I am aware that that could seem… disturbing, so I apologize.”

Jazz waved it off. “‘S alright.” He looked at Prowl for a minute. “I do like ya.” He said, simply. “Yer a lot of fun t’ talk t’.”

Prowl’s wings returned to their normal position. “I also find you interesting to speak with.” His doorwings twitched. “Actually, I was just about to offer you my comm code when you ran off in the airport.”

Jazz winced. “Sorry, m’mech. I was on th’ shuttle before I realized that ya were tryin’ t’ say something, an’ that I’d forgotten t’ offer ya mine.” 

Both of them chuckled, and Prowl spoke again.

“Perhaps we need a complete do-over.” He said, the wry smile coming back to his face. He held out a hand. “I’m Prowl.”

Jazz’s optics held a smile as well as his face. “‘M still Jazz.” He shook Prowl’s hand. “Nice t’ properly meet ya. Don’t worry, I don’t hold it against ya.” Jazz’s smile became a grin, and Prowl smiled back at him.

“Perhaps you would like to grab a drink once I am done here? At the fifteenth or sixteenth joor, at the cafe just down the street?”

Jazz nodded. “I’d like that.” He pinged Prowl with his comm code. “I’ll plan on th’ fifteenth joor, but text m’ if ya get held up. Line’s still pretty long.” He pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning on. “Ya should probably get back out there before they think ya abandoned them.”

Prowl nodded, pinging his own code back at Jazz, who gave him a thumbs up in acknowledgement. “I will see you later, then.”

Jazz waved as he slipped back out into the crowds and out of the shop. Orion was still grinning as Prowl came back out.

“Ask him?”

“I have no doubt you were eavesdropping.” Prowl replied smoothly as he went back to his seat, only faintly hearing Orion’s laugh in the background.

Thankfully, the line did not force Prowl to stay late, and the last mech in line had their book signed at one breem to the fifteenth joor. Prowl vented deeply as he set down his pen and stretched his hand out, standing up and going back over to the counter.

“Thank you for having me again, Orion.”

Orion smiled. “We do good business when you come in, Prowl. The pleasure is ours. Now, go have some of your own fun while you’re in town.” 

Prowl shook his helm in resignment and turned, walking quickly toward the door. 

“Comm me if it goes well!” Orion shouted as Prowl stepped out the door. Prowl made a very rude gesture with his doorwings, making both Orion and Megatron laugh. 

He composed himself as he made his way down the street to the agreed-on cafe, which, if Prowl remembered, had very good flavored energon. Jazz was already sitting at one of the outside tables, and he waved Prowl over once he saw him. Prowl slipped into a chair across from Jazz.

“Finished up at th’ bookstore, then?” He greeted Prowl.

“Just on time.” Prowl nodded. “I admit, I was worried for a few breems just after the fourteenth joor, but Megatron assured me that unless there was a massive influx of mecha, they would have me out on time.”

Jazz smiled. “‘M glad. Spent th’ past couple of joors looking forward t’ this.” Jazz flagged down the waiter. “‘M buying.” Prowl opened his mouth to protest, but Jazz shook his helm. “Ya had a long day. Besides, how many times in m’ life am I going t’ be able t’ say I bought a famous mech a drink?” Jazz joked, and Prowl smiled.

“I suppose not many.” He admitted, looking over the menu quickly. The waiter came over.

“What’ll ya be having today?” He asked.

“‘M gonna have midgrade with magnesium.”

“Midgrade with silver. And an energon crisp.” Prowl handed the menu to the waiter, who took it.

“Coming right up.” He moved off to get them their drinks and Prowl’s crisp. Jazz hummed.

“Didn’t take ya for a sweet kind o’ mech.”

“Generally, I’m not. However, their crisps tend to be more savory than sweet, and silver is my one exception.” Prowl admitted.

Jazz nodded. “Mind if I have a small bit o’ yer crisp, then?”

Prowl smiled. “Not at all.”

The drinks and the crisp came, and Jazz reached over to snag a small corner, popping it into his mouth, humming appreciatively. “Not bad.”

Prowl nodded, taking his own bite. “I try to stop here whenever I am in Iacon.”

“I can see why.” Jazz took a sip of his energon. “So, tell m’ about yerself.”

The two sat there for nearly three joors, just chatting. All awkwardness over hidden identities gone, Prowl felt much more at ease simply telling Jazz things, rather than constantly worrying about whether or not Jazz might put two and two together and figure out that Prowl was writing the books he liked so much. A thought occurred to Prowl.

“ _ Shroud of Shadows _ will be out in eleven deca-orns.” Prowl said. “I can send you a copy as soon as it’s out, if you like?”

Jazz’s optics lit up, but then he shook his helm. “Ya really shouldn’t. Why would ya do that, anyway?”

Prowl smiled. “You actually gave me an idea for it.” He admitted. “Something just wasn’t working about it, and I was starting to become somewhat distressed. But I believe I have solved the issue, so sending you a copy would simply be my way of saying thank you.”

Jazz raised an optic ridge. “What kind o’ idea?” He leaned forward, curious.

Prowl took a sip of his second cube of energon. “Why, you’ll just have to read it when it comes out, won’t you?”

Jazz cycled his optics and flopped back. “Now that’s just cruel, m’mech.” Prowl chuckled into his drink, and Jazz shook his helm. “Yer positively evil.” He mumbled, before chuckling as well. “Guess that’s why we get along. So, ya were tellin’ me about th’ mechs behind th’ characters?”

Prowl nodded and switched back to their main topic of conversation. They had gotten on the thread of where Prowl got his ideas and characters from, and Prowl was relaxed enough by now to be fine with doing so. As Prowl continued talking, Jazz’s jaw dropped.

“So yer tellin’ me that Hailbird was actually based on a  _ real mech _ ?”

Prowl vented. “Unfortunately, yes. While he wasn’t in my division, I had several dealings with him. He always seemed off to me, but I had no proof. Then he was directly implicated in a murder, and I was the investigating officer. It turned out that he had been committing drug-related crimes and using his position in the drugs division to covering them up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as good of a criminal as he thought.”

“Or perhaps ya were too good o’ an Enforcer for him.” Jazz leaned forward, helm in hand and elbow on the table, a soft smile on his face.

Prowl looked away, doorwings fluttering. “Perhaps.”

A comfortable sort of silence fell between them, Jazz simply gazing at Prowl, Prowl still too embarrassed to look Jazz in the optics again.

“‘M really enjoyin’ hangin’ out with ya, Prowler.”

Prowl’s doorwings fluttered again, but he coughed slightly. “Prowler?”

Jazz’s smile fell. “Sorry if ya didn’t like that, I give everyone nicknames. Won’t call ya that again.”

“I did not say I disliked it. It merely caught me off-guard is all.”

Jazz’s smile came back. “Okay then,  _ Prowler _ .” He teased lightly. Prowl just smiled. Jazz spoke again. “But as I was sayin’, I have t’ fly out again early tomorrow. Job over in Kalis. So I need t’ head back t’ my hotel, get a good night’s recharge.” His voice was just a little sad, and Prowl put a hand on Jazz’s.

“I understand. I also need to fly out in the morning to Helix.” Prowl said. “But…”

“But?”

“If you would like to video chat, or just comm, I would not be opposed to doing so.”

Jazz’s face lit up. “I’d like that too.”

Prowl stood as Jazz did. They stood there just a second, at a loss for how to part, before Jazz leaned over and gave Prowl a peck on the cheek, before rocking back on his pedes, clearly ready to run if necessary. Prowl, still smiling, leaned over and returned the gesture, making Jazz blush.

“G’night, Prowler.” He said.

“Good night, Jazz.” Prowl responded, and the two parted, sparks spinning at the promise of at least friendship, if not more.

Prowl almost hoped it would be more.

* * *

Sure enough, as soon as Jazz was in Kalis, he sent Prowl a video request. Simply sitting around in his hotel room, Prowl accepted the request. Jazz’s face appeared on screen, and Prowl smiled at him.

“So you’re settled there?”

Jazz nodded. “Yep. An’ Prowler, ya  _ need _ t’ see th’ rooms this mech’s set m’ an’ m’ team up in.” He turned the camera view around, revealing two other mechs lounging around in chairs. “Oh, yeah. This is Mirage an’ Bumblebee.” He pointed to the two mechs as he said their names.

“Hi Prowl!” Bumblebee called, waving. Prowl chuckled. 

“Hello.” He called, loudly enough that his voice would carry over the speakers. Mirage didn’t speak, but looked up and waved as well before going back to whatever he was doing. 

“We’re just in th’ sittin’ room right now, an’ that was basically it. Nice view though.” He turned and showed Prowl the window, which, as it was still light in Kalis, Prowl could see had a lake view. Jazz turned back and walked out into the hall.

“Obviously I can’t tell ya all th’ details, ‘cause it’s an active job, but this is goin’ t’ be a really cushy week. I doubt there’ll actually be any trouble, we’re mostly bouncers for some fancy party. So this is our kitchen, fully stocked--” Jazz stepped through an archway and showed Prowl the room he’d stepped into. “--an’ if we run out o’ anythin’, th’ owner told us t’ just let him know an’ he’d have more sent in.”

Prowl hummed. “Nice.”

“Totally. Anyway, won’t show ya Mirage and Bumblebee’s rooms, but they’re basically th’ same as mine.” Jazz walked across the hall and opened a door, showing Prowl the double-wide, plush berth, the forest view, and the grand shaped metal furniture covered with cushions. He moved over to and flopped back on the berth and flipped the camera back to himself, grinning. “Not that many rooms, but it’s a pit o’ a lot nicer than we’re used t’.”

“So not all of your jobs are like this?

Jazz snorted. “Hardly. Most o’ th’ time, we’re in some crappy motel room. Mirage is certainly happy. Bumblebee’s young, not much bothers him, but Mirage comes from money, so this is more what he’s used t’.”

“What about you?”

“What about me? Where do I come from?”

“Yes.”

Jazz shrugged. “Sire’s career military, Carrier’s a teacher. Twin named Ricochet. He’s also in th’ military. I was for a bit, but didn’t like it much. Not much t’ say about m’ sparklinghood, actually.” He grinned. “So if yer looking for a tragic backstory, ya won’t find it here.” 

Prowl smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Happy as any other mech. So, ya signing more books there in Helix?”

Prowl nodded. “Tomorrow. However, I have an extra day here, and I was planning on seeing the Gardens.”

Jazz whistled. “They’re nice. Went there last time I was in Helix for a job. I think yer gonna enjoy them.”

“Then I probably will.” Prowl’s doorwings fluttered.

The two chatted for about a joor, but it was late in Helix and Prowl had to get some recharge. Jazz blew him a kiss through the screen, jokingly and Prowl returned it. Hanging up the call, Prowl leaned back in his chair, a soft grin on his face before he moved to the berth, retiring for the night.

This routine continued for the next eleven deca-orns. Whenever Jazz made it to a new city, he’d text Prowl to tell him where he was at this time. Since Prowl’s book signings were over at the same time his deadline for Shroud of Shadow was, he was simply back in his apartment. However, he would send Jazz updates on his crystal growing, something that Jazz found fascinating, never having had any success with it himself. 

Once Jazz called up Prowl late at night, who barely checked the ID before answering. Jazz’s face appeared on Prowl’s datapad.

“Prowler~”

“Jazz, are you overcharged?” Prowl raised an optic ridge.

“Maybe~” Jazz sang.

“He is.” Mirage’s voice floated from somewhere off camera. “Don’t let him say anything stupid. Or, if he does, ignore it. He won’t remember it in the morning.”

“Aw, Mirage~ Yer no fun.” Jazz stuck out his glossa, before moving toward wherever his room was in the building he was in, flopping back on his berth once he reached it. Prowl simply vented.

“Aren’t you on a job, Jazz?”

“Yeah~ But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.”

“You will be hungover tomorrow.”

“Probably.” Jazz’s voice dropped. “Wish ya were here with m’, Prowler. Could get ya overcharged too. Want t’ see what overcharged Prowler is like.”

“That would be unwise.” Prowl shuddered. “If you are curious, however, I can assure you that others have many, many videos of me doing incredibly stupid things when I was younger and still becoming overcharged on a regular basis.”

Jazz giggled. _Giggled_. “Sounds like a fun Prowler. Not that yer not fun. Yer yerself. Sexy.”

Prowl raised an optic ridge. “I believe Mirage was right.”

“Nah~ Not about this.” Jazz’s voice dropped again. “Pretty sure I think that when ‘m sober. Pretty sure I think a lot o’ things about ya.”

Prowl’s fans stuttered. “Jazz, you are drunk. You will not remember any of this, and I refuse to let you say things like this when you are clearly not capable of any sort of consent. Call me again in the morning, if you remember to.”

Jazz moaned. “Aw, fine. I will, then. An’ ‘m gonna say th’ exact same things. Promise.”

Jazz hung up, and Prowl forced his fans back under control as he settled down to recharge.

Jazz didn’t call in the morning.

Prowl put the incident behind him, along with a little seed of disappointment. He really wished Jazz actually felt like that.

Prowl certainly did.

* * *

Four mega-cycles before Shroud of Shadow was due to be released, Jazz sent Prowl a picture just captioned “Back home. Finally.” It was of a tiny little studio apartment, followed by one of a giant stack of mail. Prowl chuckled.

_ Prowl: How long will you be there? _

_ Jazz: Few megacycles. _

_ Prowl: So if I were to send you a copy of  _ Shroud of Shadows, _ would you get it before you leave again? _

_ Jazz: … _

_ Jazz: Probably? I thought it didn’t release for another three mega-cycles? _

_ Prowl: It is a perk of being the author. I get free copies ahead of time if I ask nicely. I need your address, however. _

Jazz texted him the address, and Prowl quickly signed one of the copies and packaged it up, dropping it in his outgoing mail just as the mailmech walked up. He chuckled at Prowl, but didn’t comment.

_ Prowl: Sent it just in time. Should be there in two or three megacycles. _

_ Jazz: You’re too nice to me, Prowler. _

_ Prowl: Only for you. _

_ Jazz: :) _

Prowl waited anxiously for Jazz to get and read the book, doorwings twitching when Jazz sent him a picture of the package with a caption that just said “:) :) :)” Jazz texted him again.

_ Jazz: I’m actually heading out tomorrow, so I’ll read it on the plane. Thanks, Prowler. _

_ Prowl: I’m here if you need to rant. _

_ Jazz: Ha! _

Prowl continued about his life, now much more patient about Jazz’s reading the book. He knew how fast the mech read, and he was likely to finish it before he landed, depending on where he was going. 

The next orn, his editor sent him a message to let him know that he’d already hit the charts, and Prowl acknowledged the message politely. He didn’t really care what everyone thought about it.

Just Jazz.

Then his comm system pinged with Jazz’s ID. He accepted the call.

Silence.

“...Jazz?” Prowl asked, confused.

“...Is Deepsteel me?” Jazz said, bluntly.

_ Ah, frag _ , Prowl thought. Jazz didn’t sound happy. “...Perhaps?” His voice was weak.

“‘M in yer book?” 

“I am sorry if I offen--” Prowl started, but Jazz cut him off.

“Prowler, if yer about t’ apologize, don’t. ‘M flattered. ‘M just... surprised is all.”

_ Oh. _

“Like I said. You gave me an idea.” Prowl sat down, speaking softly.

“Just tell m’ one thing.”

“Yes?”

“That ending… ya leave it there on purpose? ‘Cause it’s pretty obvious Goldburner has a massive crush on Deepsteel. Half expected them t’ frag before th’ end.”

“It seemed too fast. And I… didn’t want to presume anything.” Prowl said.

“Prowler, if Deepsteel’s based on me, I think ya can presume away.” Jazz responded, voice lowering. “I don’t spend eleven decaorns talkin’ t’ just anyone almost every night.”

Prowl swallowed. “Then would you be interested in meeting up for another date?”

“I didn’t tell ya where ’m at, did I?”

Prowl wracked his processor. “You did not.”

“Promise ya won’t think ’m a stalker?”

Prowl raised an optic ridge, despite the fact that Jazz couldn’t see it. “Jazz, are you here in Praxus?”

“‘M a little closer than that.” 

A knock on his door startled Prowl, especially as he heard it both through his comms and his audials. Prowl narrowed his optics, standing up to go open the door. He looked out through the peephole before opening it, and sure enough, Jazz was standing there, a wry smile on his face. He hung up the commline and shuffled his pedes.

Prowl vented, then smiled. “I’d be concerned, but I am aware that you probably have some knowledge that I do not as private security.”

Jazz smiled back, relaxing. “Actually, th’ residential pages help a lot.” Jazz joked.

Prowl cycled his optics. “I honestly forgot that those were still around.”

Jazz chuckled. “Most mecha do.” 

Prowl shook off his surprise, remembering his manners as a host. “Would you care for energon? I was just about to refuel.”

“Love some.” Jazz looked around Prowl’s apartment while Prowl brought the cubes out, accepting one from Prowl. “Nice place.” 

“Thank you. I spend more time here than I perhaps should, but I find it more comforting to be in solitude than crowds.”

“I’ve sort o’ picked up on that th’ past few deca-orns, Prowler. Can’t say I agree, but we’re all different.” They drank their cubes in silence before Jazz saw the crystals in the window and made a beeline for them, setting his cube down on the table before he did so. “These th’ crystals ya sent m’ pictures of?”

Prowl followed him over, setting down his cube next to Jazz’s. “Yes.” He stood next to Jazz, taking in his profile as Jazz retracted his visor and leaned down to look at the crystals closely.

“Th’ pictures don’t do them justice.”

“No, they don’t.” Prowl’s voice was soft, his optics warm, and Jazz looked up, whatever reply he had been starting dying on his glossa.

Prowl put a hand on Jazz’s chin, drawing him back up.

“Were you serious when you said that I should presume away?” Prowl whispered.

Jazz’s fans hitched. “Never been more so, Prowler.”

“Then I’m going to kiss you, if you don’t mind.”

“ _ Please _ .” Jazz whispered right back as he pressed in, kissing Prowl back as hard as he could, wrapping his arms around Prowl’s neck, as one of Prowl’s hands went to Jazz’s waist and the other to his helm, holding him close. The hand on Jazz’s waist wandered a little lower, and Jazz made absolutely no move to stop it, only grinning into the kiss and swiping Prowl’s lip with his glossa. Prowl growled and opened his mouth, letting Jazz in, pushing Jazz physically back toward the couch, where he turned them around and pulled Jazz into his lap, running his hands down Jazz’s back and thighs, making the other gasp.

“Ya sure ya want t’ go there, Prowler?”

Prowl stilled. “Do you not want to?” Prowl didn’t  _ think _ he’d been misreading the situation, but...

Jazz kissed him again. “Worried about ya, not m’. Believe me, I want t’. Said ya were sexy, didn’t I?”

Prowl froze. “You did remember.”

Jazz lowered his helm. “Took a couple orns. An’ then I thought ya were tryin’ t’ let m’ down easy, so I didn’t call. ‘M sorry.”

Prowl tilted Jazz’s face back to his own, his optics darkening. “I think it all worked out, don’t you?” He nipped at Jazz’s lips.

“ _ Definitely _ .” Jazz ran his hands over Prowl’s doorwings, making Prowl’s fans roar. “We gonna stay here, or do ya have a berth ya would prefer t’ take this t’?”

“Berth.” Prowl growled, picking Jazz up, who wrapped his legs around Prowl’s waist, letting him carry him into the berthroom, and Prowl kicked the door shut behind them.

* * *

Sitting at his desk, working on the start to Shadow Season, the third book in Goldburner’s career, Prowl occasionally stopped to look back at his sleeping lover, before smiling and continuing. The sun was beginning to come up when Prowl finally heard Jazz stir, and he saved his document just as Jazz spoke.

“What are ya doin’, Prowler?” Jazz asked, coming up behind Prowl and wrapping his arms around Prowl’s neck, leaning down to kiss him. Prowl turned his helm up, humming into the kiss before breaking it.

“Starting on the third book.”

Jazz cycled his optics. “But  _ Shroud of Shadow _ jus’ released yesterday.”

Prowl smirked up at Jazz. “Perhaps I am more productive now that I have an excellent muse.” He tilted his helm back at his berth. 

Jazz snickered and kissed Prowl again. “I actually have somethin’ t’ tell ya.”

Prowl’s smile faded, and Jazz hurried to speak again. “It’s not anythin’ bad, promise. Not breakin’ up with ya or anythin’ like that.” Prowl’s expression turned to one of relief, and Jazz smirked. “Not after last night, that’s for sure.” 

Prowl smirked right back and Jazz laughed, stealing another kiss. “‘M actually movin’ t’ Praxus. Not like, tomorrow, but soon. In th’ next few deca-orns, probably. This last job made m’ realize that I like Praxus, and ‘m gettin’ tired of travelin’ all th’ time. I’ve wanted t’ start a corporate security business. Y’know, testing out security for big businesses, but personal mechs too, an’ Praxus seems like a good place t’ do that. Don’t wanna guard any more mecha-cats.” Both of them laughed, remembering Jazz’s story that he had told Prowl way back when they met. 

“If it will make you happy, I will certainly be glad to have you closer, and not over a data-net connection most of the time.” Prowl reached up and clasped one of Jazz’s hands, bringing it to his lips before smiling up at his lover.

Jazz’s visor darkened, his voice dropping. “Well, unless yer deadline is tomorrow, I can think o’ better ways t’ spend our time together before I fly out again.” 

Prowl allowed Jazz to pull him out of his chair and back toward his berth. “I can also think of a few things I’d rather do. Or just one.” He teased as Jazz’s legs hit the berth, pulling Prowl down on top of him.

“Glad we’re on th’ same idea, Prowler.” Jazz gasped as Prowl began searching out all the most sensitive cables on Jazz’s frame, all the frantic rush of last night gone.

“Always, Jazz.”

* * *

Twenty deca-orns later, the two sat on Prowl’s balcony in Praxus, watching the sunset and sipping on the high-grade Jazz had brought for their date tonight. Jazz had finally moved to Praxus eleven deca-orns ago and opened his corporate security business.

It had been going well. Very well.

But now Prowl was sitting on the edge of his seat, trying to remain as calm as possible as the evening progressed. Just as the last bits of sunlight slipped away and the lights of Praxus came on, Prowl finally spoke up, pulling out a datapad from his subspace.

“It comes out tomorrow.” Prowl smiled as he handed Jazz the very first copy of  _ Shadow Season _ . “Open it.” He said, smiling, slipping out of his chair, pulling another box out of his subspace as he slipped down to one knee in front of Jazz.

Jazz, already distracted by the datapad, grinned and opened it to the first page, already signed by Prowl. 

“Really, Prowler, ya didn’t have t’ do this for m’. Appreciate it, but…” He turned the page, and Prowl watched Jazz’s grin slowly slip from his face, only to be replaced by a hand over his mouth as he looked up to see Prowl, kneeling. Prowl smiled up at him, opening the box with the bonding pin.

“Bond with me?”

The datapad slipped out of Jazz’s hand, clattering to the balcony floor as he nodded vigorously, taking his hand away from his mouth.

“Of course. Yes.  _ Yes _ , Prowler.”

Prowl stood up just enough to capture Jazz’s lips with his own, placing the bonding pin on the plating over Jazz’s spark chamber, where it magnetized instantly. Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl’s neck, pulling him closer.

The datapad lay on the ground, still forgotten for the moment, still turned to the dedication.

_ For my own handsome stranger and partner, Jazz. _

**Author's Note:**

> And that's that AU wrapped up. That was WAY longer than I anticipated but hey, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. :D


End file.
